The Future is Now
by Carnage Falcon
Summary: When Kylier destroyed the Ankh Cannon, she fully expected to die. What happened was about as close to the opposite as it's possible to get... further, even. Kylier-centric, massively AU, possible KylierxOC in later chapters. Yes, the genre says sci-fi.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Yggdra Union. That's all sting. All other characters and details of the scenario are mine however, unless otherwise noted.

* * *

The Future is Now

Chapter one

_The Arc of Triumph was living up to its reputation – when Kylier arrived, Milanor and the Royal Army had been brought to a dead halt, trapped within range of Eudy's new toy, a device that focussed to power of both Verlaine ankhs into a ballistic cannonball when fired, creating a massive blast that cratered the solid stone ground._

Milanor and the Princess will never last at this rate, _Kylier thought warily, watching the hopeless battle from afar. A thought struck her. _If I could just take out those ankhs somehow, Milanor and the others could get through!

_Problem was, there was only one way to do that, and it wouldn't be pretty. While separated from the Royal Army, Kylier had done a little snooping and found out something interesting about the Ankhs – despite their phenomenal power, they were incredibly fragile. One good whack and they'd shatter… releasing more than fifty times the power in every blast they were producing now._

_And there were two of them._

…_It wasn't even a decision. Milanor had given her life back once before. She'd happily lay it down for him. One thing, though, stopped her from diving in that second._

_Should she tell him?_

_Could she tell him?_

_Kylier loved Milanor, it was that simple. The dumbass hadn't figured it out yet, but she loved him with all she had. Just the thought of leaving him like this was bringing tears to her eyes. But…_

_She could tell him. Die without that on her mind. She could still go through with it… she hoped. He couldn't reach her to physically stop her, and she'd just shout it as she took off, letting the rushing wind blot out her hearing. But…_

_God, he mightn't recognize it if it dropped out of the sky on griffon-back, but the little idiot knew what love was. He'd know how serious she was. That could put him off his game, and this was no just-for-fun raid on a rival bandit's stronghold. He needed to be at his peak if he was going to have a chance._

_She wouldn't risk it. She couldn't take the chance of doing this for nothing._

"_Alright!" she decided aloud. "My mind's made up! Milanor! Hang in there!"_

"_Huh?" Milanor spotted where she'd drifted over him. "Sheesh, Kylier, you don't need to tell me… H-huh…? What are those tears for?"_

"_I'm gonna clear the way for you!" Kylier announced, wheeling away. As she did, she heard Milanor's voice fading away behind her._

"_Don't tell me you're… No! Don't do this, Kylier! Stop!"_

Don't turn back,_ she demanded of herself. _ Don't even glance.

"_Come on, Al! One more time!"_

_Her loyal griffon gave a squawk and followed her instructions to gain height. It took her a minute to get into position with enough spare altitude – more than she needed, but she only had one shot and couldn't come in too fast. She waited until the Ankh Cannon fired again, making sure she had a clear run._

"_For Milanor…" she whispered. "I'm sorry, dear Al."_

_Al chirped, and like the brave, clever mount he was, fearlessly launched into a dive without needing instruction. Eudy looked up just as she entered the deep dead zone, too close to be accurately targeted._

"_W-What's with her?! Look out, she's coming this way! No! She can't…"_

Goddamnit! Why does this all have to be happening? _"Milanor! Princess! Put an end to this for me!"_

_She brought her Bloody Rose around, throwing all her strength into striking the two Ankhs as hard as she could._

_They shattered._

_The last thing Kylier heard was Milanor calling her name._

* * *

How…? How had she passed out?

That's right. She hadn't. She'd given her life to destroy the Ankh Cannon, giving Milanor and the Royal Army a chance to penetrate Bronquia's defences. No regrets. Except… Except not telling Milanor how she really felt. Now…

Now, judgement. Valhalla, or Hel.

She opened her eyes.

The ceiling above her was smooth, grey, and appeared metallic. An inset held two glowing tubes that seemed to provide all of the light.

"Not what I was expecting…" she said aloud.

"You're awake."

Kylier looked over at the source of the voice. The man sitting beside her bed looked somewhat bizarre, but human – a bird's nest of cerulean blue hair, analytical black eyes, and apart from that… alarmingly normal, with decent-looking facial features and the healthy physique of a travelling scholar. His pose, her viewing angle, and the back of the chair he was sitting sideways on obscured her view of his clothes. His book she could see clearly, though she couldn't make out the title – the 'lettering' was made up of partial squares peppered with spots.

"Is that the Doomsday Book?" Kylier asked, hoping something would make sense soon.

"The… yes." The half-beat pause would have slipped by unnoticed, but after growing up with Milanor and his gang trying to blindside her at every turn, she noticed it.

That stung. Those memories would sting for a long time to come, she knew.

"Can you tell me how you died?" he asked. "There's been a slight paperwork mishap."

"I kamikaze'd an Ankh Cannon." Kylier said.

"I see… did that release a lot of energy?"

"Hopefully enough to blow a hole in two hundred tons of solid stone fortification."

He closed his eyes and started murmuring under his breath. Hearing numbers and mathematical terms, she realized with awe – and more confusion – he was solving complex physics equations in his head.

"That's… over a zeta-Newton of force…" he paused, then vehemently added a word. Kylier didn't recognize it, but the tone alone said he was cursing. He shut his book with a clear snap.

"Here's the score. You're alive." The man said. "The explosion was so powerful you were flung away at high speed."

"How far?" Kylier asked calmly, too incredulous to believe all this straight up.

He pulled something from his pocket, only a spike with a short square hook protruding above his hand. Kylier rolled her head over, gaze following the dancing ribbons of yellow light that connected briefly to a black panel in the wall.

An opening began to form – Kylier recognized a map of Midgard. It was a very good one, actually – incredibly detailed, with cloud patterns and everything.

As it opened further, she realized it looked progressively more warped around the edges, eventually turning out to be a globe.

The opening continued to expand. Black space started filling in, with points of light. Looking carefully, Kylier could make out familiar constellations in the backdrop, though they were somewhat skewed…

As though viewing the same stars from much, much further away to one side.

She was in space above her home.

"What the _FUCK?_" she wailed hysterically, leaping out of bed. Her body felt heaving and uncoordinated, but that didn't stop her lurching over to and pressing against the window.

"You were thrown away at such speed you survived exiting your atmosphere and moved _through_ the space occupied by the outer wall of an unmanned satellite, coming to rest unconscious in an oxygenated maintenance cavity until we checked it out and found you. Right now you're in a guest suite on our star cruiser, the Novastar."

"So… I can go…"

"No. You're dead down there." he said. "We've inoculated you but you're already carrying microbes that could wipe out the global population in weeks. You can't go home."

"I'm… it's… this all…" Kylier didn't have words for the storm of emotions ripping through her at that moment.

"I'll leave you be for a while." he said. "It's normal for you to feel heavy, the gravity here is about four times what you're used to. Bathroom's through there. I'll be back in a while."

He left. For the first time in almost a decade, Kylier let go of her pride and bawled like a lost child.


	2. Chapter 2

The Future is Now

Chapter 2

"…in her food. She goes to sleep and never wakes up."

"Fuck yourself. That's called cold murder."

The two female voices that welcomed Lethanial back onto the bridge were Larissa, her even, uncaring voice just as cold as her plan, and Zadia, much more brash and honest.

"Besides, that wouldn't work." The quiet, polite voice was Catleia, the youngest person on board at age fourteen. "We've already told the officials we found a survivor. They'll want a gene scan to confirm ID, and then a thorough check when she shows up coming from a quarantined planet. They find inoculations and poisons in her system and we'll be up the Swanny."

"Very good." Lethanial said, ruffling her hair as he joined the discussion group. He didn't have to bend his arm past horizontal at the elbow – Catleia's Ardanian ancestry meant that she was, among other things, short. "I say we look after her."

"Wires, are you _nuts?_" That comment came from the nickname-fixated second-in-command, Roderick.

"Please don't call me that, and yes, I am. We can't just leave her high and dry, that's asking for her to be abused. She's sentient, and likely bright enough to adapt. And we could use a second person on domestics for those places Catleia can't reach."

Catleia bit her lip, a sure sign that she wanted to kick him in the shin, but was too polite to actually do it.

"More than that," Roderick said. "Designated scrap-comber. Wouldn't take her that long to learn what she was looking for."

Larissa snorted. "I still say…"

"And I still say go fuck yourself." Zadia reiterated.

"Lethanial, I agree we have to look after her." That female voice, laced with cool authority, was Lin, Commander of their mercenary company. "But like Catleia said, we've already called her in as a survivor. How do we explain a quarantined life-form on a devastated Freeport?"

"And how did she get there in the first place?" Will, two years Lethanial's junior, was the youngest fully-active mercenary with the group.

"She's the one who blew the hole in the reactors." Lethanial said. "She managed to blow something up that released a ridiculous amount of force. Her sheer velocity meant that before decompression or asphyxia could take hold, she bashed right through five layers of metal before being knocked out against the antimatter containment deadzone, coming to rest _between_ the layers of said deadzone, meaning she was virtually in a temporal standstill until we dug her out."

"And you told her that?" Lin pressed.

"Of course not. I told her she'd been flung inside a satellite. Anyway, you didn't let me finish – with the antimatter explosions from the station impact we can just tell the officials she must have been sucked up in a singularity and take custody of her."

"Far cry." That clipped accent and distant, indifferent tone was Trak, the final member of their company and despite his limited number of words, was often the one who said the most.

"Yeah, but how are they going to contradict me?"

"Game set and match, Lethanial," Lin said with finality. "She knows you, Lethanial. Tell her gently."

"Right away."

* * *

When Lethanial walked into the room, the newcomer was lifting her arm, visibly straining against her own weight.

"You get used to the gravity eventually," he said. "Look on the bright side – when you adjust, you'll be four times as strong as you were."

"But I already weigh four times what I did."

"Clever girl. How did you work that out?"

"I ri…" She swallowed heavily. "I used to ride griffons. Lesson one – turn too tight and you start weighing your mount down." Pause. When she spoke again, her voice was quivering, conveying obvious fear. "What's gonna happen to me?"

"Unless you want to end up a sex slave, you're going to stick with us." Lethanial said, deciding that making her options clear would lead to more cooperation in the long run. "Without an income and your own way of getting around, it's only a matter of time before you end up selling yourself. Trust me, I've seen it happen far too many times. We don't mind putting you up rent-free until an opportunity presents itself."

"But… you just said I'd end up a whore like that."

"_Flleyar_, we're the five-three-two-two-zero Independent Mercenaries, 'Red Wolves'. Being with us is anything but 'normal circumstances'. Hell, any group of mercs would have that effect."

She finally turned to face him. Lethanial picked up pride was behind her hiding her face – her eyes were bloodshot and tearstains streaked her face. "What did you call me?"

"_Flleyar_. It's a multilingual term that means… well, it doesn't translate well to your language, but it's a polite form of address for a young woman."

"Kylier."

"Lethanial."

"That was my name."

"Same here." Lethanial said. "Can I get you something? Food? Water?"

"Some water… I don't think I could eat right now."

"I wouldn't expect so. I'll be back in a minute."

* * *

Lethanial left, this time leaving to door open.

Kylier still didn't know what to think. She was alive, and yet… and yet he'd said himself that she was dead in Midgard. Everyone had heard stories of people travelling and starting a new life, and she supposed this was something similar, but this… she had nothing to base a new life on. She doubted griffon breeding was a viable trade, she had few other skills, and hell, she was surprised Lethanial spoke a language she understood. She was going on just the goodwill of an indeterminate number of people she knew nothing about.

Add to that the gravity, and it was a replay of what was hands-down the worst time of her life: while practising dogfighting manoeuvres during her griffon rider training, she's come unseated and fallen a hundred and fifty metres, bruising her spine and getting a major concussion that knocked her out for a month. She'd woken up with severely atrophied muscles and complete retrograde amnesia – she could barely remember her own name. One person – Milanor – had stuck by her, and with time, her memory and strength returned, and she'd even gotten back in the saddle.

She'd been confused, scared, and hated herself for being so weak and helpless.

In almost every way this was the same, but there was one ripping, brutal edge that made it incomparably worse.

She knew, _she knew_, that there would be no gradual recollections, no familiar faces, no quiet corrections when she blundered. Her strength would come with time, but that was all.

And perhaps worst of all… no Milanor. No faithful, endearingly stupid friend to hold her hand every step of the way.

A hissing noise that was the door closing brought her back to reality. Lethanial took his time unpacking a tray onto an end table – Kylier realized she was crying again and took the opportunity to wipe her face. Where she could clearly see it, Lethanial poured two glasses of water from the same jug, then added equal amounts of a reddish liquid to both before picking one up and drinking the contents.

"The red stuff's a stimulant that should help your muscle growth." he said, holding the other glass out to her. Kylier took it and had a sip – the extra chemical seemed tasteless.

"Why do you need it?" she asked.

"I don't. But if I drink it as well you know I'm not poisoning you."

Kylier nodded – that thought (both that he might be trying to kill her, and was showing that he wasn't) had occurred to her. She took a deeper swallow of her water.

"I'm surprised you understand me." she said after a while.

"I'm fluent in over a hundred and eighty languages – I used to be an interpreter. Midgard is similar to another language I know, plus it was chronicled by Hegemony scouts during observation."

"_What?_"

"Sorry… I forgot I'll have to start from scratch with you. The Hegemony of a Thousand Worlds is the society we're a part of, though the 'Thousand Worlds' bit is outdated – it's at least fifty times that number. Anyway, worlds that don't have a world government, cyber technology, and at least orbital travel capabilities – such as yours – are considered quarantined and allowed to develop naturally, but to determine that, disguised scouting parties are sent down to establish whether there's intelligent life in a place, and record their language for future reference."

Kylier nodded slowly and sipped her water again. After a moment's reflection, she figured that she should at least learn about the people she was with. "Lethanial… what do you do?"

"Mercenaries do pretty much whatever they're paid to do. There's your usual security details, bandit eradication, assassinations and so on, but we get more mundane jobs too. Hauling cargo, helping with construction, hell, we've been hired to clean houses before."

"Sounds more like freelancer work."

He paused. "Maybe. That's not a word I've used before. _Freelancer…_ it's got a ring to it." He caught himself rambling and pulled a small, silver device from his pocket. "Can I touch your arm?"

"Why?"

"That force field," he gestured at the blue barrier that covered the doorway, open or closed, "is called a gene-screen. I need to put your genetic code into the system so you can pass through. This thing will just take a small blood sample."

Kylier hesitated, then held out her arm. Lethanial placed the device against her skin for a moment, pulling it away when it beeped. "Done."

As he pulled out a slightly larger device and unfolded it like one may open a sideways book and stuck the two together, Kylier inspected her arm. If blood had been drawn, there wasn't the slightest pinprick to show it.

"There we go. You can now pass through all the gene-screens except the engine rooms and private quarters." Lethanial put both devices away. "You feel up to a walk? You could meet the crew."

A walk, meeting people. First steps. She mightn't have any way of figuring out what was coming, but at least she could learn what was going on in the present.

"I can walk," she said. She followed Lethanial out of her room, shuddering at the warm prickly feeling the gene-screen elicited. He led her down several more metal corridors, and finally into a side-room. The walk, maybe a hundred meters, tired her out, but she set her jaw and had a look around.

This room looked remarkably clinical, with jars of vari-coloured liquids on shelves, and complex-looking equipment out on tables. A busty, redheaded woman was already in the room, holding what looked like a small, wet, furry white worm in her fingertips.

"Kylier?" Lethanial said from off to her left.

"Yes?" she looked at him. As she did, she felt fingertips on her ear, then…

Then a feeling like a wet cotton bud in her ear.

The woman had just slipped that worm into her ear!

Kylier gasped and clawed at the side of her head, but it was futile. She could feel the worm crawling deeper into her ear canal, until it stopped at what had to be her brain. There was the sickening feeling of cold tendrils spreading over the inside of her skull, and slowly sending roots deeper in. Realizing she'd dropped to her knees, Kylier glared daggers up at the woman. Her mouth was moving… she was speaking…

And Kylier _understood her!_

"_IrqFEGwdsvef defeefsd-_stand_ defsa? eFrfe? Edfg _do you_ feGRsdFg _me_? WEfre _yet_…_

"Do you understand me yet?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** I really should have mentioned this before, but I completely forgot. Big thanks go to Feral Phoenix for doing the Beta work for me.

* * *

The Future is Now

Chapter 3

"Hey, do you understand me?"

"Too fucking right I understand you, _bitch!_" Kylier screamed, still clutching at her ear. "What the hell did you _do?_"

"She put a worm in your ear," Lethanial explained. "It's a symbiont from her homeworld that has the unusual – and useful – side effect of allowing its host to understand and make Zephyrian vocalizations. Since Zephyrian is the most common language in this sector, it seemed like a good idea to give you an implant."

"Why didn't you fucking ask?"

"Hey, we want to stick a worm in your brain so you understand the locals!" the woman said satirically. "Would you really have bought that?"

Kylier just glared. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Zadia, resident pilot," she said. "Basically the one who steers this crate."

Kylier scrutinized Zadia as she stood. Like Lethanial, Zadia appeared human on the surface, and a very attractive one at that – her leather-looking top made the most of generous assets, the neckline swooping just far enough to show a teasing glimpse of cleavage. A pendant – silver, with a bead of deep blue resin set on a ring of shapes that brought feet to mind – helped draw the eye to that area. Pants made of something like denim clung well to long, long legs. She stood with her hands on her hips, the cocky set of her features indicating she had little to hide. She seemed to notice Kylier's gaze lingering jealously on her bust and smirked.

"Don't panic, Gal. By the time you get used to the pressure you'll be ripped. Plenty of guys love a girl with a six-pack."

Kylier contemplated her question, opened her mouth, and then was struck by a thought. Unlike earlier, when she'd apparently spoken 'Zephyrian' without thinking, she put conscious thought into speaking Midgard.

"Is she usually like this?" she asked. Zadia raised an eyebrow when Lethanial laughed – it had worked, he was the only one who understood her.

"Yes. Most of the time. Don't ask," he added to Zadia. "You okay now?"

"If I had the strength, I'd give you a black eye for this." Kylier warned Zadia, for the moment too pissed off to bother being scared.

To her surprise, Zadia laughed aloud. "You're going to fit right in like that, Gal."

* * *

"She creeps me out." Kylier admitted to Lethanial five minutes later – the bridge was at the opposite end of the Novastar from where they were and they'd had to stop for Kylier to catch her breath.

"Huh?"

"Zadia. She creeps me out."

Lethanial chuckled. "I certainly hope not. You're fucked if she does, she's just perky."

Kylier swallowed. "And the others?"

"A psychotic, a nut, a lone wolf…"

"Ouch," Kylier muttered, cutting him off. She tried to stand, but couldn't quite muster the effort, instead taking the opportunity to have a closer look at Lethanial.

Her first analysis of him had been close to correct, but on closer inspection, more details came to light – he eyes weren't pure black, just a very dark green. The intelligence behind them, however, was unmistakeable. He was dressed in something plain, yet functional – undyed buttonless shirt and slacks that seemed to be made out of something like cotton, but with an incredibly tight weave.

Kylier took a deeper breath and braced her muscles for a second attempt. She pushed herself to her feet. "Okay. Let's go."

Lethanial led her further down the dead straight corridor – "This tunnel goes the length down the spine of the ship, on all four levels. Find this if you get lost…" – and finally through the door opposite where the corridor entered a T-intersection.

"Oh… my… gods…"

It was like being under a skin of glass looking into the night sky, except that cutting brilliantly across her view was a wide, undulating streak of orange, gold and green lights, twisting together and throwing off magnificent omnicoloured flares.

"Now that's pretty…" she said after staring for a while, completely forgetting where she was.

"It's called the Swan Ribbon Nebula, the biggest permanent ion storm in known space." Kylier barely registered that it wasn't Lethanial talking. "Most of it's safe but it can eat through a ship's hull closer to its source, so a colloquial term for being in a dangerous or unfortunate situation is being 'up the Swanny'."

"Why can't you see it from the ground?"

"The ionized light particles are dangerous, so they're filtered out by any sort of breathable atmosphere."

Kylier finally registered that another female was talking to her and looked down. Standing nearby was an exercise in contradictions – her height said she was in her late preteens, but clear signs of early-to-mid bodily development said she was around fourteen. Sky-blue hair fell in impossibly straight, smooth locks to well past her hips. She was wearing a satiny dress the colour of her hair that managed to be completely shoulderless and sleeveless while still covering from the base of her neck down to her calves, where flat-soled black boots were visible. He only other clothing was a pendant on a black cord, in a similar fashion to Zadia's, but a different design – a teardrop shape, with blue glass in a water-like pattern.

"Catleia, this is Kylier. Kylier, this is Catleia, out domestics worker."

"Domestics?" Kylier asked.

"Cook, clean, dust, throw books at people who snore too loudly when powernapping in the library… the usual."

Kylier couldn't help but chuckle a little – the little girl had suggested throwing books at people with such a straight face and polite tone she'd made it sound civilized.

"Alright, Kylier here's your first example of how big a society the Hegemony is." Lethanial said. "Catleia here is from a different planet than us – most of us are from Zephyryah, making us Zephyrian. Catleia here is an Ardanian, from – surprise, surprise – Ardania. She's got that the blame for being so short and only needing two hours of sleep a night."

Kylier nodded. The feeling of being crushed by too many unknowns was setting in again. Trying to anchor herself, she looked around.

The bridge of the Novastar looked enough like the bridges of ships Kylier was more used to, yet drastically different at the same time. The roof over their heads – perfectly clear, offering a view of deep space and the awesome Swan Ribbon, save for a large, thin black frame at the front – curved downwards towards the front aerodynamically, suggesting they were right against the out shell of the ship. The platform they were standing on was raised a few meters above the main floor, with a flat black panel set into the railing and stairs down on either side. On the floor, front and centre, was a larger blank panel in front of a seat, with smaller panels down the sides. In a mirror-image pattern on either side of the bridge were what looked like stations of some sort – blank panels, swivel chairs, and a vertical, freestanding piece of what looked like faintly blue-tinted glass. These were all stand-alone, save for the frontmost pair – they were close enough to the centre to share another blank panel in the middle.

One of the panels wasn't blank, however – the one in front of the right seat was lit up, showing an array of squarish shapes, each labelled in tiny script. The piece of glass was also opaque white, with rows of the same box-and-dot script she'd seen on Lethanial's book sliding upwards at a leisurely pace. Reclining on the chair, feet resting on the blank middle panel, was another mercenary.

His denim pants were similar to Zadia's, but looser and more comfortable-looking. His torso clothing consisted entirely of jacket, unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up, showing a lot of his musculature. For a mercenary, Kylier was surprised by how lean his was – he didn't look like someone who made a career out of fighting, though she reasoned it was possible he preferred to make his blows more precise than powerful. He too was wearing some kind of pendant, but Kylier couldn't make out to details at her distance.

"That's Trak, our shipboard tactical officer – gunman – and sniper." Catleia said, following Kylier's gaze. "Don't interrupt him – he likes reading, but thinks it looks unprofessional."

Kylier couldn't help raising an eyebrow. "Professionalism amongst mercenaries?"

"It gets you jobs."

Kylier jumped a whirled around. Standing behind her was a lithe woman in her late twenties. Even to Kylier's virtually uncalibrated dress sense, this woman was taking no nonsense – black full-length skivvies under tan three-quarter pants and like-coloured vest, which buttoned all the way up to the neck – though Kylier couldn't help noticing she was pretty much flat as an ironing board. Resting just below the hollow of her throat was a pendant in the same vein as the others the mercenaries were wearing – hers with black glass, two tadpole-esque shapes forming a heart-like shape, with a dot above to form a kind of broad teardrop overall.

"Commander Lin of the Five-Three-Two-Two-Zero Independent Mercenaries, 'Red Wolves'," she said formally, offering a hand.

"Take it by the wrist. Firmly," Lethanial offered in Midgard. Kylier did as he suggested, putting most of her strength into the hold.

"Good grip," Lin said. "Your name?"

"Kylier." She said. She felt blood rush into her face during a moment of awkward silence, then took the conversation the only way she could figure. "What are those pendants you're all wearing?"

"Pendants… oh, datacores?" Lin chuckled. Kylier blush intensified. Lin composed herself.

"I'm not laughing at you, _Flleyar_ Kylier. It's just been a while since I've seen something this cute."

"You look like a country child on her first visit to a city fair," Lethanial said, again covering up in Midgard. He resumed his speech in Zephyrian. "The 'pendants' are called datacores – what looks like glass or resin is actually 'intelligent' micromatter capable of storing digital information. They're used as a form of ID, to store information from Lexicons or the world around you, and as a fashion statement. See, they're based off an ancient Zephyrian tradition of giving a child of twelve a silver-and-resin pendant with a design based on their personality, to commemorate their entry to teenage years. Since twelve is the required age to have a legal identity in the Hegemony (which is dominantly Zephyrian in more than eighty percent of controlled space) the personality-matching continues."

"In case it wasn't already glaringly obvious, Lethanial is what we call our 'technician' – master of electronics and walking Lexicon," Lin said. "To give what he said some sense, my datacore design is Heart's Glow, for sincerity and compassion."

Catleia held hers up. "Synergy – waters of harmony."

Lethanial fished under his neckline. "I don't wear mine out, because I'm usually neck deep in electronics, and they don't like to touch silver… got it." He pulled out an elongated arrowhead shape, with two narrow black lines flanking four black dots. "Quarterina – organization and harmony."

"I think I know what yours will be," Lin said, smiling at her. For the first time, Kylier sincerely wound down a little – the professional air was still there, but there was something matronly about Lin's smile that just seemed to hit the right note. "There are several designs that mean innocence or purity, but I have a felling you'll get Cyberutopia."

"Cyberutopia?" Kylier parroted.

"Cyberutopia – the future is now." Catleia provided.

"Speaking of datacores, how are we going to give her a NIC?" Lin asked. "A cranial parasite is one thing, but drilling a hole in her skull?"

Kylier started stuttering a complaint, which Lethanial waved down. "Relax. I've already given you a Neural Interface Chip."

"How?" Lin and Kylier asked together.

"Easy. I implanted the chip in her translation parasite. When the worm went in her ear, so did the chip."

"Yours went in your ear?" Catleia murmured, looking away. "Lucky."

"Huh?"

Lethanial was chuckling. "The worm in question will take any route it can to find your brain. When Catleia was getting one, the medic dropped it and it went up her nose. Catleia's never quite gotten over that."

Kylier nodded and went to take another step, but her legs buckled and she winded herself on the hard floor. Lin helped her up.

"Naptime, I think," she said. Kylier opened her mouth to protest, and Lin let go of her arm, dumping her on the floor again.

"Point taken," Kylier grumbled. This time Lethanial picked her up, weaving an arm over her shoulders to take most of her weight. He led her out of the bridge and down a flight of stairs.

"Aren't we going back to my room?" Kylier asked.

"That was actually a medical quarantine bay," Lethanial explained. "I'm taking you to a proper guest suite – you'll like it, it's better furnished than… oh, not now…"

Kylier looked up. Approaching them was a young woman, ringlets of turquoise hair framing an austere face. She was dressed in something resembling gothic Lolita – black, frilly dress, with long white stockings and three-inch heels. She stopped in front of them.

"If I had my way, you'd be dead by now," she said sharply, glaring at Kylier.

"Shut up and fuck off, Larissa." Lethanial snapped.

"Just so she knows I don't like her being here." Larissa walked off again, heels clacking down the hall.

"What a bitch," Kylier muttered. The clacking stopped, then loudened as Larissa came back and got in Kylier's face again.

"I am not _a_ bitch, I am _the_ bitch, and from you, it's _Miss_ Bitch."

"Whatever you say, Miss Bitch."

The next thing Kylier knew, she was on the ground again and her ears were ringing. After a moment of distant, muffled yelling, Lethanial helped her up.

"Sorry," he said, his voice sound less like it was under water. "Be thankful it was only a slap. She's not even nice to people she likes."

"I know the type," Kylier promised, thinking of Rosary. The memories burned far more than the clout.

_Gods… Even thinking of someone I didn't get along with hurts… How am I going to live like this?_

She felt a pat on her back, and realized she was crying.

"Don't take it hard," Lethanial said softly. "Believe it or not, I know what it's like. We're here." He led her into a room and sat her down on the bed, which was indeed more comfortable than the last one. "You operate the door by touching that black panel, same for the window. I think you can see the Swanny from here. You can't turn off the gene-screen from here but that shouldn't be an issue, there're glasses beside the sink in the en suite if you want a drink, and you can call me by pressing that red button right there." He paused. "Unless you want me to stay?"

Kylier, nearly blacking out where she sat, shook her head.

"Okay. _Alliemi teru_ – rest deep."

He left, shutting the door behind him. Kylier didn't recall her head hitting the pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

Rebirth

The Future is Now

Chapter 4

Kylier woke up and shook her head. She'd slept soundly, and mercifully hadn't dreamed of anything that reminded her of home. Remembering the gravity, she sat up slowly and planted her feet before standing upright. After smoothing her clothes and getting a drink, she reached for the red button on her wall, but stopped.

Why call someone? She was pretty sure she was going to be living on this… whatever exactly the Novastar was. She might as well find her own way around. How hard could it be?

Two minutes later, she didn't have a clue where she was.

Five minutes after that, the monotonous grey walls were driving her nuts, she had even less of an idea where she was, and she couldn't find that corridor Lethanial promised she couldn't miss.

Using colourful adjectives for everything she didn't recognize from her old life, she trooped down some stairs she found, then barged through a gene-screen at the bottom.

She staggered a half-step as the rumbling noise hit her ears, oppressive heat adding a slap to her face. Gathering her senses, she approached the railing of the catwalk that was the sole path across the room and looked over.

"Ye Gods… what the fuck are those?"

Below her were four obscenely complicated contraptions, mostly metal thinly coated in some greasy-looking orange stuff. Tubes and pipes snaked their way around their length in an impossibly complex mess. In the clear ones, she could see liquids of several colours either rushing along, or staying in place with the occasional lazy surge. Near the end opposite where she'd walked in was a section of purple twists that was rotating quickly, clearly the source of the rumbling she heard. Beneath that noise were hisses, groans, clanking, and any number of minor pings and taps.

She leaned over to see just how far they went. Each of them was easily half a kilometre long, disappearing under the floor beyond the stairwell. The rotating sections alone were ten times her height.

"I see you found the engine room."

Kylier jumped.

And lurched over the railing.

* * *

Trak had always had a jinx. His luck never seemed to change. From the exodus in his homeworld, to that… incident with that royal. The day he'd decided just to follow orders.

Now the new girl was falling towards the engines. A certain and quick, if painful, death.

This, at least, he could do something about.

He threw himself over the railing after her.

* * *

Kylier didn't even get a scream out before she was winded by her belt catching on something. She looked up. Trak, the mercenary she hadn't talked to, had one hand under the hem of her pants and the other on the side of the catwalk… just. As she watched, he slipped, barely managing to get a decent grip on support beams below the catwalk.

Kylier could feel urine seeping into her leggings. The rumbling had turned into an evil roar, each hiss and clunk a vile plea for her blood. It was even hotter this close, making sweat from heat mix in with that of fear. She could feel herself trembling at the prospect of falling into those… machines down there, being scorched and bludgeoned into an unrecognizable pulp.

"_HELP!_"

"I'm trying!" Trak growled through gritted teeth. With a guttural roar of effort, he managed to lift her up to near the support bar he was gripping. Kylier wrapped her arms and legs around it, praying for Al to swoop in to pick her up.

"You're going to be fine," Trak yelled over the noise. "I'm going to lift myself onto the catwalk to get something to get you up. Do _not_ panic."

Kylier gulped and nodded, screwing her eyes shut. She felt him climb past the bar she was on, then vibrations as he ran down the catwalk.

Looking back, it was maybe two minutes until Trak returned. At the time, it felt like two centuries. Sweat poured from her every pore, loosening her grip. Her body pulled heavily in the gravity, adding more strain to her tenuous hold. Her clothes were sticking, the noise was deafening, the heat was unbearable. Tears slid down her face as her life flashed before her eyes.

"Not like this!" she screamed. "I don't want to die!"

Vibrations – several sets. Two loud clanks, something uncoiling, then a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm back," Trak's cool, clear voice said. "I'm going to wrap two bands around your midsection. They'll form a harness so I can lift you up safely."

Kylier nodded again, then felt the promised straps tightening around her, then Trak's arms looking just under hers.

"Let go." Trak said.

"I can't!" Kylier shrieked. "I can't!"

"Let go," he whispered. "I promise I won't."

"_Let go," Milanor yelled from where her abseiling ropes were tied. "I won't. Promise."_

Taking a deep breath, Kylier released the bar.

* * *

She was sweating, overheated, covered in first-degree burns, thirsty, literally reeking of evidence she had wet herself, and still shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, but Kylier was mercifully seated on solid ground in a cooler room.

Trak, true to his promise, still hadn't let go of her. He'd shifted her for a better carry once they'd gotten onto the catwalk and arranged himself into something approaching a hug when they reached this room, his comfortingly solid body seeming to be in just the position to shield her.

Which was very comforting, because the commander was going spare.

"Would someone please tell me which FUCKWIT left the engine room screen on fucking CLIMATE MODE?"

"Actually… that would be me." The speaker had been with Trak when he returned to pull Kylier up, but she hadn't caught his name yet.

"And why the FUCK would you do something like that, Roderick?"

'Roderick' looked at his feet. "I, uh… I hack it myself. The green light on the status panel reminds me the engines need a service."

Lin groaned. Roderick took a step back.

"Roderick, some days I wonder why I sleep with you. Do the words PASSENGER SAFETY CODE EIGHT-FIVE-FOUR-OH-THREE ring any bells?"

"Kinda, but I'm not sure it…"

A calmer voice interrupted. "Section three, clause seventeen, paragraph nine. 'Access to all shipboard areas containing working engines of Turbojet class or above must be protected by gene-screen and hydraulic doors, with access granted only to crew and trained personnel. Failure to comply constitutes a passenger safety risk under code four-point-five-three-A.'."

"Thank you, Catleia," Roderick said. "Now can you do one more thing? PULL THAT KNIFE OUT OF MY BACK?"

Catleia took a step back, snivelling. Lin sighed.

"It'd have to be fucking _now_, wouldn't it?" she demanded of nobody. "Middle of the fucking night…" That explained why everyone was wearing untidy, loose garments, if anything that didn't look like it had been thrown on in a careless hurry for the sake of modesty alone. Apparently even aliens had preferences in sleepwear. Lin sighed again. "Fine. Roderick, fix that damn door and I want EVERY bit of paperwork we have read, signed, sorted and filed before breakfast. AM I UNDERSTOOD, LIEUTENANT?"

"Yes, commander." Well that explained why she was so pissed off, at least. Durant had gone into similar states of apoplexy when a lieutenant screwed up. Roderick dashed out quickly, followed by Lin kicking up a storm in her wake. Larissa, Catleia, and someone else she hadn't met filed out, mumbling between themselves. Zadia exhaled.

"Thank Aegis he didn't call her Sweet," she said. "I think she would have blown an artery."

"And thrown him off the edge as well," Lethanal added. He leaned over to meet Kylier's eyes around Trak's body. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she muttered.

"Sure you are," Zadia said. "Fucked-up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional. You're shaking so hard you're making _him_ shiver, and that ain't easy, take it from me."

Kylier blinked at her.

"Best friends. With benefits."

That little revelation didn't make Kylier feel any less comfortable where she was. She realized she'd even managed to have a thought about home without feeling too pained. In a way that Zadia couldn't see it, Kylier curled a little closer to Trak.

"Do you want a drink?" Lethanial asked.

"Please." Kylier croaked. He nodded and walked out. Kylier looked from Zadia to Trak and back again.

"What were those things?"

"Engines," Zadia said, figuring out what she meant. "Specifically, our Impalerjet array. Basically they're what we use to move this thing around in space."

"They fly?" Kylier asked.

"Not really. There's no gravity in space, so we just have to worry about moving forward, not up," Zadia said, gesturing abstractly. "If you want to die of boredom you can ask Lethanial for the specifics, but in short they produce massive amounts of energy and push it out the back, which drives us forward."

"You've been practising that speech." Trak noted dryly. Kylier noticed he had an accent – quite a nice one to listen to.

"Yeah, I'm really going to know how to explain this to somebody with no background with researching it first," Zadia said, shrugging. "All I know is I up the throttle and we move faster. We badly need our own engineer."

"Engineer?" Kylier repeated.

"Someone who knows how to tune up the guts of a machine," Lethanial answered as he walked back into the room. "Here's your water – another does of stimulant in it. And I brought you something to… I'm not sure _eat_ would be the right word, but it's nourishing."

Trak shifted away to free up her arms, but stayed comfortingly close. Kylier spilled a little of her rose-coloured water at first, but calmed down as she drank. Her hands were close to steady as she accepted the small bowl and spoon from Lethanial.

The bowl was full of what initially looked like water, but a stir turned up a gooey consistency. She glared accusingly at Lethanial.

"_This_ is food?" she demanded. She caught herself and opened her mouth to apologize.

"Don't bother," Zadia said. "I'd bitch if I was subjected to that, but you probably have a tender stomach right now, and Catleia's pretty much the only one among us who can really cook."

"And we're completely out of decent supplies," Lethanial added. "We were on our way to Starcity Lrida to restock when we happened across you."

Kylier nodded and gingerly lifted a spoonful of the glop from the bowl.

"Careful. It's bitter," Zadia added.

"I dumped a cup of sugar into it," Lethanial countered. "Just eat it and try not to think."

Kylier quickly stuck the spoon in her mouth. She wasn't sure Lethanial's addition had helped – the sickly-sweetness did little to disguise the incredibly sharp bitterness, and it felt more horrible in her mouth than it had looked. With a struggle, she swallowed it.

"Your face says it all," Zadia said, sniggering. Kylier held up her cup and tried to ask, but gagged.

"More water, right?" Lethanial guessed, taking the cup and disappearing again.

"You get used to it," Trak said. "It's only reserve rations."

Kylier realized that was second time he'd spoken since he'd gotten her back onto the safe side of the railing. She swallowed and managed to speak. "You don't say much, do you?"

He just shrugged. Zadia laughed.

"He says plenty. He just doesn't waste words," she said. "But then, he has…" She stopped, clearly having been about to say too much.

"I have a… troubled past," Trak finished. He paused before speaking again. "I don't like to talk about it."

"Well, apart from nearly getting up close and personal with the Impalerjets, you keeping up with everything?" Zadia asked.

"How did Catleia remember what she spouted before?" Kylier asked, picking a random bit of curiosity to let Zadia change the subject. Trak saved her life, his privacy was the very least she could give him. Besides, this mundane chitchat was helping her calm down further.

"Ardanian," Zadia said. "She's got a photographic memory. It's not that she _doesn't_ forget anything – she _can't_."

"As mach a curse as a blessing, as Will would tell you," Lethanial said, returning and handing Kylier a fresh cup of water. "Will's the one who she hangs around with – brown hair…"

"I saw him," Kylier said. "The one who's friendly with Miss Bitch?"

"She used that line on you too?" Zadia guessed. "Don't take it personal. She's like that to everybody."

"So I've heard." Kylier decided to stop putting off eating her 'food' and shovelled as much as she could into her mouth, swallowing rapidly and draining her water when she was done.

"Now you're getting the idea," Zadia said. "Anything else you want to get out of this information session?"

"This 'engineer'. Isn't that Lethanial's job?"

"No. I'm the Technician. I deal with the electrical, not the mechanical."

"Electrical?" Kylier asked quizzically.

"Yeah, you know, comp… Oh sweet Aegis. How do I explain a computer to you?" He rubbed his eyes, clearly thinking. "Alright… imagine a library, with everything categorized and sub-categorized by subject matter. You're sitting at your desk in the library, with a bunch of switches in front of you, one for every letter in the alphabet. You want to look up a topic. Pick one."

"Griffonology."

"Okay. So you press the switches for G-R-I-F-F-O-N-O-L-O-G-Y. A book flies off the shelves and opens up in front of you, on the right page for the subject you asked for. That, in theory, is what a computer does."

"Seriously?"

"Yup. They can do literally billions of things besides, but it's all based on the same process – look up data – what you typed in, run it through a logic filter – find the right book, then return the processed information and act on it – bring to book over to you.

"Anyway, it's all pretty complicated, and the computing is what I deal with. I know why things work; we need someone who knows how things work."

"Isn't this kind of lesson what the Lexicon is for?" Zadia asked. Lethanial rolled his eyes.

"Gee Zadia, I hadn't thought of that!" He shook his head. "You need a datacore and legal identity to access the Lexicon, and if we get caught logging in for her is too much trouble to be worth it," he shook his head again. "Now is not the time for lessons. It's still, what, oh-dark-thirty? Let's get some more sleep."

Kylier stood. "Could someone take me back? I got lost trying to find my way out in the first place."

"Of course."

That had been two voices – Trak and Lethanial. They looked at each other a moment, then Zadia broke the deadlock.

"Oh no. As long as we're both awake, we're taking advantage of the downtime." She grabbed Trak's arm and more or less hauled him away.

"Guess it's just you and me," Lethanial observed. "Come on. Let's find you something clean to sleep in."

* * *

When Kylier woke up again, it was to an annoyingly cheerful whistle. The source was sitting on the other side of the door, leaning against the gene-screen.

"Are you okay there?" Kylier snapped. The person stood and looked over his shoulder.

"Sorry, did I wake you? Morning. Name's Will."

Finally, someone around her who looked completely normal. Shirt, slacks, gloves, chestnut hair, brown eyes, a silver-and-black datacore like an elongated shield shape, and a casual expression on his face.

"Your clothes are clean. Here." He threw a package through the screen, managing to land it neatly on her bed. Kylier picked it up and went into her en suite to change.

"What the… Whose underwear _is_ this?" Kylier was looking a black, frilly ensemble that would have been illegal in several major Midgard kingdoms.

"Larissa's," Will called back. "It's all we have in your size."

Shuddering at the thought of anyone ever getting wind of her wearing something like this, Kylier slipped into the unmentionables. The lace started to itch in seconds, but at least it was a good fit.

"It hasn't shocked you or anything?" Will asked after a minute. Kylier carefully rearranged herself to get the bra clasp within easy reach.

"No… why?"

"I tried to swipe it without being noticed, but Larissa is an enchantress, so…"

"Great! Ankh cannons, engines, even my own fucking underwear is out to get me!"

Will apparently found this hysterical, as Kylier could hear him laughing the entire time she was putting the rest of her clothes on, taking care to pull her leggings up far enough to cover the frills of her borrowed panties – the last thing she needed was Miss Bitch knowing she was wearing actually them. Dressed, she stepped back into the main room, where she found Will standing and leaning against the gene-screen again. She paused.

"What's up?" he asked, reaching into his pockets.

"Can I get through that?"

"Of course. Lin just blocked male DNA from passing through your screen. Privacy thing." He found what he was looking for – a cigarette and lighter. He lit up and stood aside as she stepped out of her room.

"Do you have to do that?" Kylier asked, wrinkling her nose. Smoking was very high on the list of things she couldn't stand.

"It's just catnip," Will said, blowing smoke rings.

"_Catnip?_"

"There's some Felucian in my bloodline a couple of generations back – feline humanoids. Anyway, I have a cat's night vision, a bad habit, and that's about it," he started walking. "You missed breakfast, but according to Zadia, I doubt you'd want any."

"She got that right," Kylier muttered, still not quite believing she was walking along next to someone smoking a _catnip cigarette_. They walked in silence until they reached the bridge.

"Sure took your time, Ed."

That was Roderick. In better light, Kylier could take a more direct look at him. His hair was violet and looked almost reflective, straggling waves reaching down his back. His outfit was similar to Zadia's, but different again – the top only had half-sleeves and covered him right up to the throat, with pants of the same material. Kylier could just make out the shape of his datacore hidden under his neckline.

"'Ed'?" Kylier asked.

"The lieutenant here is big on his nicknames," Will explained, giving Roderick a pointed look. "At least mine is obvious – my full name's William Edwards."

"So you people do have last names?"

"Yes." Lin ascended the stairs to stand with them. "But don't ask a Zephyrian for theirs – they take several centuries to say correctly."

"_What?_"

"When Zephrians marry, you simply tack the female's surname onto the end of the male's," Roderick explained. "Sure, that works when you're only dealing with a couple of hundred syllables but after a few thousand years of recorded history things get out of hand, so individuals just make up quick-access names for themselves."

"Lin Elwick, for example," the commander said. "Sleep well?"

"Apart from the near-death experience, yes."

Lin chuckled. "I've been meaning to thank you. I've wanted to dump the paperwork backlog on Roderick for a while now but he bitches if I don't have a reason."

"Shut it, Sweet."

"They're a couple," Will explained, putting his cigarette butt out and tossing it into a small hole in the wall.

"Question," Kylier said, trying not to think of Durant blowing veins at the idea of a commander and her lieutenant being an item – and the following surge of heartache that showed no signs of fading away. "How do you tell day from night up here?"

"This is for you," Lin said, fishing an item out of one of her pockets. "It's a chronograph that…"

"I know what a wristwatch is," Kylier said, putting it on. Surprisingly, the numbers were in Midgard script (even if they did go to twenty-four) and one half was rimmed in orange, the other half in blue.

"Blue is night, orange is day?"

"More or less."

"How do I wind it?"

"No need, it's got its own power source. Should last a good few years. Lethanial redid the face, in case you're wondering."

"Go figure," Kylier muttered, admiring it.

"Okay, we know you're healthy now," Roderick declared. "Zadia, get us out of here."

Kylier noticed Zadia sitting in the chair that partnered the one Trak had been in the last time she'd been here. The glass plate was lit up, but instead of plain text, there were complicated-looking patterns of coloured pictures and Zephyrian 'writing' that she couldn't even guess the purpose of. "You got it," the redhead called back. "Slipping into antispace in three… two… one…"

Kylier had the very unpleasant feeling of being _inverted_ in just about every context she could come up with. As soon as she steadied enough to know she still had four limbs, she fell to her knees and vomited.

"Sorry. Probably should have warned you," Roderick said. "Antispace slips can be uncomfortable to first few times."

"Nah, s'okay," Kylier assured him. "That tasted better coming back up."

Everyone on the bridge chuckled. Still on her knees while she waited for her stomach to settle, she asked about cleaning up the mess.

"Don't bother," Roderick said. "Catleia will show up with a mop and bucket in five minutes, tops."

Kylier nodded and managed to stand, turning and looking out the windows. She found herself inspecting a rapidly shifting psychedelic blur.

"What the hell is _that_?"

"Antispace," Lethanial provided. Kylier readied herself for a long, complex explanation – everyone else was going on with what they had been doing. "It's the opposite of normal space, entered by generating and moving through a specific quantum waveform. The inverted physics here have a useful effect – are you familiar with the speed of light?"

"Light moves?"

"Apparently not. Anyway, light moves at something like three hundred million klicks a second, a little bit under perhaps. Normally, it's physically impossible to move above this speed, as laid out in the accepted Theory of Relativity…"

"And the 'relativity' of your explanation better improve or I'll save her the trouble of hitting you," Zadia interrupted.

"The important part is, in real-space you can't move faster than light. And to give you an idea of the distances we have to travel in space, we measure distances in light years – literally, the distance light travels in a year, which is just a tick under 9,460,730,472,581 klicks. Enough to circle your planet… more times than I care to work out."

"Stop shitting me," Kylier snapped. "I'm ignorant, not stupid."

"He's telling you the truth," Lin said. "Every word."

Kylier let her jaw drop as Lethanial went on.

"Since you can't move faster than light, that means in real space, ignoring theoretical temporal warping at near-light speeds, it would take eight to ten years at absolute best to make a hop between two systems considered very close together, and realistically more like a century and a half.

"In antispace, however, the short version of a long theoretical physics exercise is it's impossible to move _slower_ than real-space light. A ship only needs to use its positioning thrusters to stay on course and have up-to-date antispace maps, and it can cross hundreds of light-years in a matter of days."

Kylier gawked for another minute or so before managing, "A simple 'We go faster in anti-whatzit' would have done."

"YES!" Clapping her hands, Zadia leapt to her feet. "FINALLY, someone who can tell him he talks too much to his _face!_"

Lethanial looked mildly offended, but Kylier realized he'd had the expression since she'd made her suggestion. She blushed lightly and mouthed, "Sorry."

Lethnial waved her down, then stepped back to avoid being prodded with a mop handle as Catleia, looking tired and grumpy, started cleaning up the mess on the floor, muttering darkly to herself in a language Kylier didn't understand.

"Told you so," Roderick said smugly as he and Will walked back up the stairs to the platform.

"Okay…" Kylier muttered. "So, uh… what do we do while we're in anti-whatzit?"

"Now," Roderick cracked his knuckles, "we beat the living crap out of you."


End file.
